You've lost your job. The kids are staring at you from the next room with those gaunt faces and soulful eyes. The unspoken question on their lips: after paying the utility bills and hospital expenses for Timmy's chemotherapy, can we afford to eat?
My answer: of course you can! Just stroll on down to Wall Street, find yourself a Goldman Sachs banker, get a roasting spit at Wal-Mart, squirt some lighter fluid on a bed of backyard briquets, and voila! Goldman Sachs bankers have plenty of fat on their bones -- it's hard to vouch for their nutritional value beyond that, but a nice, filling high-fat meal (the corpulent bankers might last a week and the funky leftover pieces can be turned into soup stock) can go a long way toward dispelling those recession blues.
How do I know they have fat on their bones? Check this out: the average Goldman employee is making almost $700,000 a year (and that includes the mailroom guys and the bubble-cracking receptionists, so you know the bankers are making a LOT more). So if you've been reduced to eating Saltines with a thin smear of butter, you can bet they're getting something much better, like Melba crackers slathered with sturgeon roe.
Okay, some of you are probably thinking: Wait a minute, won't Goldman protest if enough Americans take to heart this eat-a-Goldman-banker advice, thus depleting their ranks? You would think that, but Goldman has a famously civic sense of responsibility. They're so interested in helping America that they're practically running the U.S. government! Of course the company doesn't mind if you eat some of their bankers. (Just keep it within reason: I'm sure you're all aware of the concept of "overfishing;" we do need to allow time for the stock to replenish.)
Now you may be puzzled when you get to Goldman's headquarters on Broad Street, ask to see a banker, and he's relatively thin with a vulpine stare and a well-toned body. This is not one of the ones you'll want to eat! He's into his Stairmaster, Pilates, or some such. Don't leave with this guy. Get one of the soft, scrumptious, fleshy ones, and believe me, you should have plenty to choose from.
Now you're probably thinking: Hold on. Some Goldman banker isn't going to just walk out of the building with me, climb into a waiting vehicle, and let me conk him on the head. After all, they're known for being the smartest guys on Wall Street. And this is very true. So you need to have a strategy. First, you must blend in. If you're hunting deer, you don't head into the woods dressed like Disco Stu! So you need to put on a fairly sharp, well-tailored dark suit. Make a good impression on your prey.
Okay, then how do you lure a Goldman employee out of his lair? Let's take a tip from Matt Taibbi, who did a close-up study of these creatures for the latest issue of National Geographic, er, Rolling Stone. Here's what the great financial zoologist observed: "The world's most powerful investment bank is a great vampire squid wrapped around the face of humanity, relentlessly jamming its blood funnel into anything that smells like money."
Got that? I know it sounds scary: "vampire squid," "blood funnel." But just remember, the average Goldman banker is busily trying to smell money. He won't jam that blood funnel down your throat; your esophagus or stomach lining doesn't interest him in the least. But your money does, so keep your wallet in your pants AT ALL TIMES or this could end badly!
Once you've located a portly Goldman banker, you can take advantage of your knowledge about his feeding habits to lure him away. The Goldman culture is a bit secretive, so you should lower your head and start mumbling something like, "Synthetic CDOs ... single-name credit default swaps ... millions in profits ... my house." The "millions in profits" will probably activate and possibly engorge the blood funnel. This is a good sign! You've got the banker where you want him, thirsting for a good feed. Get him into a taxi, keep mumbling to keep him interested, get him home, and ker-pow! I don't think I need to go into a long lecture about how to prepare meat.
NOTE: For all those who are easily offended, this is meant to be satire. For all those who are cannibals, when your court date comes up, I don't know you.